It started like any other day, I guess. I was hawking headlines with
Race and Blink that day. All of the sudden, Jack popped out of nowhere
yelling.
"Spot found somethin' in an alleyway and disappeared! We gotta find 'im!" he was shouting.
Knowing that when he got back Spot will kill us if we had refused our help, the three of us agreed to come, enlisting Bumlets and the random blacksmith (What? He was strong!) to help us find the Brooklyn leader.
When I reached the alley I stared in shock at what was in front of us. It was a round door of shimmering light, but you couldn't see what lay on the other side. Slowly, I stepped into the portal and felt disoriented at once. I looked at my surroundings and it was definitely not any part of New York I'd ever seen. I heard the others landing behind me, and turned to face them, seeing yet another view I'd never expected to see in my lifetime. Everyone looked as confused as I did, which is never a good sign.
"Wanna go ask someone wheah we are?" I suggested.
Jack was staring in awe at a group of girls that were walking by. "Look at dos goils. Look at their clothin'. Wheah are we?"
"None of us know. Dat's why Mush heah wanted ta ask someone," Race pointed out. He walked up to the group of girls.
I surveyed them from afar. One had short brown hair blocking her dark brown eyes. She was wearing a shirt that read, "One by one the penguins steal my sanity," and a pair of very loose black pants. Laughing beside her was a blonde in a strappy red shirt and a pair of what looked like fitted denim pants. Beside them was a shorter dark haired girl in a plain blue shirt and denim pants. Walking over to them at that moment was a girl with a shock of curly red hair in black shorts and a white shirt with a number '15' on it and a girl with long brown hair and a pair of light colored pants.
"What'd dey say?" Blink asked, walking over to join the group congregating by the girls. I walked over too in order to hear their answers.
"New Yawk. Dey say dat dey are vistin' for some reason. Dey're really from Dallas," Race answered.
"But dis can't be New Yawk. Dis ain't wheah I'se lived all me life!" I exclaimed more in confusion than frustration.
Jack looked around the street. "What's dat?" he asked, pointing to a large white building.
"A mall," the one with shorter brown hair said sarcastically. "And what are your names anyway?"
"What're yours?" Jack asked.
"Alex asked you first," the blonde cut in.
"Ha!" Jack laughed triumphantly. "All right, I'se Jack Kelly. Dese heah are me friends Racetrack, Mush, Blink, Bumlets, an'," he looked at the blacksmith for a while, not knowing what to call him. "An' Smyth."
"All right, you've got some odd names, but we're going to consider those nicknames," Spark cut in. "In which case, that's Slider," she said pointing to the blonde.
Slider cut in, "Enough, Spark, I'm the leader after all." She pointed to the red-headed girl, "That's Mouth. And the girl with the long brown hair is Fingers." She pointed to the only girl left, "And this is Patch. Got that?"
Of course, none of us had gotten that, but we weren't about to admit it. Jack saved our hides by asking her, "Well? Want ta go inta da mall?"
"I hadn't planned on spending the whole trip shopping," Mouth started. But then she finished, "but it works for me. Katz," she addressed Slider, "Call Sprite and Firecracker and let them know to meet us here instead."
"All right, all right," she said, before walking off muttering something about Sprint's sucky reception. "I'll meet ya by the Rave in fifteen," she promised.
"Sounds good," Spark told her before motioning us to follow her through the glass doors.
We reached the inside and I looked around in shock. There must have been at least a hundred people in that building, all dressed in a similar fashion to Slider and her girls. Far as I could tell, a mall was an indoor marketplace. But they definitely sold some stuff you wouldn't find in an average marketplace.
"I have to ask," Mouth started, and I braced myself. "Where did you get those clothes?"
"Me muddah," I answered truthfully.
I looked up to see Jack looking through a store window, motioning for all of us to come near. "Look at dat calendar," he told us. I looked . . . March 8, 2003.
"No frickin' way," I muttered.
"Spot found somethin' in an alleyway and disappeared! We gotta find 'im!" he was shouting.
Knowing that when he got back Spot will kill us if we had refused our help, the three of us agreed to come, enlisting Bumlets and the random blacksmith (What? He was strong!) to help us find the Brooklyn leader.
When I reached the alley I stared in shock at what was in front of us. It was a round door of shimmering light, but you couldn't see what lay on the other side. Slowly, I stepped into the portal and felt disoriented at once. I looked at my surroundings and it was definitely not any part of New York I'd ever seen. I heard the others landing behind me, and turned to face them, seeing yet another view I'd never expected to see in my lifetime. Everyone looked as confused as I did, which is never a good sign.
"Wanna go ask someone wheah we are?" I suggested.
Jack was staring in awe at a group of girls that were walking by. "Look at dos goils. Look at their clothin'. Wheah are we?"
"None of us know. Dat's why Mush heah wanted ta ask someone," Race pointed out. He walked up to the group of girls.
I surveyed them from afar. One had short brown hair blocking her dark brown eyes. She was wearing a shirt that read, "One by one the penguins steal my sanity," and a pair of very loose black pants. Laughing beside her was a blonde in a strappy red shirt and a pair of what looked like fitted denim pants. Beside them was a shorter dark haired girl in a plain blue shirt and denim pants. Walking over to them at that moment was a girl with a shock of curly red hair in black shorts and a white shirt with a number '15' on it and a girl with long brown hair and a pair of light colored pants.
"What'd dey say?" Blink asked, walking over to join the group congregating by the girls. I walked over too in order to hear their answers.
"New Yawk. Dey say dat dey are vistin' for some reason. Dey're really from Dallas," Race answered.
"But dis can't be New Yawk. Dis ain't wheah I'se lived all me life!" I exclaimed more in confusion than frustration.
Jack looked around the street. "What's dat?" he asked, pointing to a large white building.
"A mall," the one with shorter brown hair said sarcastically. "And what are your names anyway?"
"What're yours?" Jack asked.
"Alex asked you first," the blonde cut in.
"Ha!" Jack laughed triumphantly. "All right, I'se Jack Kelly. Dese heah are me friends Racetrack, Mush, Blink, Bumlets, an'," he looked at the blacksmith for a while, not knowing what to call him. "An' Smyth."
"All right, you've got some odd names, but we're going to consider those nicknames," Spark cut in. "In which case, that's Slider," she said pointing to the blonde.
Slider cut in, "Enough, Spark, I'm the leader after all." She pointed to the red-headed girl, "That's Mouth. And the girl with the long brown hair is Fingers." She pointed to the only girl left, "And this is Patch. Got that?"
Of course, none of us had gotten that, but we weren't about to admit it. Jack saved our hides by asking her, "Well? Want ta go inta da mall?"
"I hadn't planned on spending the whole trip shopping," Mouth started. But then she finished, "but it works for me. Katz," she addressed Slider, "Call Sprite and Firecracker and let them know to meet us here instead."
"All right, all right," she said, before walking off muttering something about Sprint's sucky reception. "I'll meet ya by the Rave in fifteen," she promised.
"Sounds good," Spark told her before motioning us to follow her through the glass doors.
We reached the inside and I looked around in shock. There must have been at least a hundred people in that building, all dressed in a similar fashion to Slider and her girls. Far as I could tell, a mall was an indoor marketplace. But they definitely sold some stuff you wouldn't find in an average marketplace.
"I have to ask," Mouth started, and I braced myself. "Where did you get those clothes?"
"Me muddah," I answered truthfully.
I looked up to see Jack looking through a store window, motioning for all of us to come near. "Look at dat calendar," he told us. I looked . . . March 8, 2003.
"No frickin' way," I muttered.